Hunter: I gave her everything.
Boyd: It was a great gift. And Finlay's is that too, I think. Or was yours but a poor venture, the tribute of a little soul? Is Margaret to have no better luck than that poor queen? Down there at Holyrood. Look, in the moonlight. A woman of great wit—Margaret is that too. And nothing better coming to her than a scented pimp, a callow fool, and a bully. They should have been three great princes, masters of men. And just that.
- (A dog howls across the garden below)
It's the moon. But her love was magnificent. And Margaret's is. A new unhappy queen? I wonder.
Hunter (rising and moving to Boyd): Look here, Andrew, you can't alter facts by filming them over with dead romances. I gave Margaret everything, and she wants to give me a part at best—nothing, may be. It's a bad bargain, and I won't make it. Damn that dog!
- (As it howls again)
Why should I allow Finlay to meddle with my life?
